


Pillows and Bedsheets

by ajkal2



Series: Doorsteps-verse (aka that one where dave runs away to roses) [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Horrorterrors - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Interlude, Nightmares, poor babies, this is mainly character building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5864812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajkal2/pseuds/ajkal2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>have some nightmares</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillows and Bedsheets

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and logically, you know that you are asleep. The behemoth before you does not, can not exist in reality. Yet that does nothing to ease the fear that grips you as tightly as the tentacles wound around your waist. You know, you _know_ that this is merely a nightmare: a phantom situation created by electrical impulses in your cranium, and you will write it down in your dream diary when you wake, and analyse it then. But the black tentacles and eyes, so many eyes glistening in the darkness, they seem more real than the world you left behind.

 

**“͇̥̣̤̖̟ỴO̺̰̖͈̝̳ỤṈ̰̝̗G̰͎͕̯ S̝̮̹E̠̞̮E͇̺̱̠R̤,̼̟̰̝̱ ͇̼̫͇͇̜̳H̖͓̻̦͈̻͎O̬W̱ ̹͓̥T̯̘͈͓ͅHE̜̘̠̲ ̻͕͇̮̥̩Y̼̝̮̼E̺̻͎̺̪̮ͅA̘̬͓̗̤̲̬R͈̜͎̗̝̮S͔̣̺̪ ̭̮̭̭͈̱H̤̪̗A͙͕V̖͕E ̳͉̟̯P͕̱A̙̣S̹̲͚̥͇̯S͈͓͎E͙͖̻̱̘D̞.͕ ̤̞̦̠I͕̣͔̣T̤͙̥̥̫̙̝ ͉̲̖͙S̺̳̘E̖̝̯͎̻͈E̼̬͉̝̱M͉̤̗̻S̻̟̲͈̙ ̹͎̖͙̦̙Ḽ̟̳̳͓̦I̤̩͔̞K̯̪͓̰̺̼Ẹ͙̼̣͎̝ ̜̻̹Y̟͓̠͕̖E̟̺̲̣S̰͎͇̲T̲̗E̻̠̙̭̲̟R̟̼͔͙͎DḀ̱̮Y̟͎̫̳ YO̬U̳̭ ͔W͚̣͉͖E̻̟̤R͈̦̲E̮ W̪̺͉I͍̦ͅT̗̠̙H̹ḬN̺̝̪̳̱̬͍ ̖̹̟̘O̜̱̺̠̮̺̗U̪̫͉̯̼R̺̺̘ ̝͖̭͓̳CL͎̜ͅU̠̼͎̘͉T̮͎C͍͕̜̫͇ḪES̟͈͖̱̣̯.̜ ̖͚̤̭̩̺̻W̝͈͕̞̜O͕̞̙̦U̹͈͎͇L̖̯̦̙̤D̥͍͖̮̤͚N̮̘͔̪'͈T̼ Y͇̻̬̭̜O̞ͅU̙̥ ͕̣͎̬̟ͅL͍̙I̝̟̫̟̳K̠̗E͚̫̺̱̩ ͍TO ̻T̜̲̥͍̭̱͉ANG͓̙͙͉L̜̻̲̱E̳̰͉̦̟ W̩͇̯͈̞̰IT̺̰͕̱H̩͉̼̞̩̠ ͕ͅU͕̥̜̼̘͙͉S̲͍̰̤ͅ ̯̖̮̞̙A͇͓̼GA͙IN͎̘̝̝̩̜͎?̟̖”̖̺̲͈̠**

 

It’s many voices comes from many mouths: all hooked and sharp and just the right shape for rending flesh. All the screams form into words, and the words resonate inside your skull.

 

“I am deeply honored by the offer, but I’m afraid I must decline. Though I appear to have mislaid my memory of the last time we… tangled, I doubt it is an experience I would like to endure, fascinating though the encounter may be. I do hope you understand,” you reply, ignoring the slight shakiness of your voice. Polite and with just the smallest hint of passive aggressive sarcasm: perfect for an audience with the horrors unimaginable.

 

 **“̜͉̜̘͔I̯̫͇T̖̻͉̗ ̦̮I̺̦̝̣̰̦̮S̟̮̟̲̼͙ ̘̯̼A͖̻̖ ̯̥͙̭͍S̼̝̪̼͉H͓͍̟͙̯̼A̺͈͍͍̜̳̥M̞͎̲͇E.̰̻̱̙͖̤ ̮̱̦̲̲̟Y̬͓̖̭͖O̺͈̺͔͓͖̖U̲̼̯̼̜R͕ ̩͔̠̭̖̹V̙̜͓̖O͚̭̰͖I̩̤̤̻̠̼C͉̺͔̠̝E̖̮͚͇͖̤ͅ W̗͓̹̰O̭͔̲Ṳ̘̭̝̼͓LD͔̻͕̮ ̯S̟̲CR̗͍̺̘E̪̝͖̮ͅA̹M̰͎̥̫̖̯͈ ̭͔̤I̭̟N̤̺̺̙ ͓HA̝̙̪R͙M̝̦̮̲O͎̥̹̬N̮̼͚̞Y̯̖͔̙̮ͅ ̭̬W̺̯̹̙I̦͈̝͇̬̞T̲͕̘H̪̤̗̲ ͚̭͙̰̻̘Ș̤̖O̳̲͙̯̗ M̹̜͚̣͍̼A͕̭N̹͔͕Y ̼͇̙O̫͕F̙͖͍̪̤̦ ̜̼͈͙M͖̘͉̖͚̠Y̺͇̙̯͍ ͇O͓T̘̦̦ͅH̠̦͔̤Ḙ̦͇̞R̮̺̞͔͇̦… ͓F̦̯͓̭̬̠R̙͙I̼̣̰E̫̼̖̩͕N͇̼̱͉D̳̜̘S͈̱̬͇̰̫͇.̟̱̥̫ ̯̭̣͕̤͕I̪ ͓̝̹̪̭̣̝B͍̮̲̩͔͖̗Ḛ̬͙͕̦G ͈̣̤YO͔͖̟͓͖̣U͉̹̝̠̹̰̭ ̥̦̪ͅT̯̳̯̯̱͈͖O̳ RẸ͍̺̥C̫̝̹̘͖O̞͎͙N̯̼̻S͔͍I̻̘̙̙̠̻̹D̬̱͚̗̟̯͚E͈͈͉̳͇̮R͓.̼̟͓̦͓”** Some of the leviathan's voices seem contrite: others just wail.

 

“I… will consider the option, but I believe I am sure. No tangling for me.” You cough, the misma of brine and licorice surrounding the creature overwhelming your nose. One eye the size of a car opens right in front of you, and you dimly register its deep purple iris and...is that a mouth _inside_ its eye? Seriously, subconscious?

 

**“̬͖RE̺͉̰̠T͍͎U̥̩̖R͇̟͔͔͔̠N͉̙ ͇͇T̲͙͖̮ͅO̲͎ ̖͚Y̖̺̦̰̮O̳̻̘U̘̮͚͈͈ͅṚ̗͕̮̼ ̩͔͚D̳͈̻͕R̻̬̦̦̫͓E̼̻͈A̦͉̲̦͕̯̲M̬̰̬͎̭S̬͇̗̩̰͕,̯ ͚S͕̭͇̦̤E͙̼̙̰E̹̦̖̦̞ͅR̲̝͔͖̗̣.̳͔̱̮̤ ̼̖I ̬̝̖̫H̳̦O̖̮P͕̙̳͉̼͓͎E̞̤͓͕̣͈̣ ̟̱̭̭̪̥͖Y͍͙Ọ͓̳̞̹̻͙U̪̻R̗͇ ͇̘̻FO̹̙̜̝͇̟R̤̤̘̦͈E̝͕̣͕̬͓̮S̬̯I͖͇͙G̠̪̺̖̪̟H̤̺T̩̟̳̖ ͉̞̩̝͎̯͎H̜͕̦͙͕E̙͚LP̼̩͓͇̣̘S̭̩̟̻̘̰͖ Y͎͎̱͈O͚̹U ̘͔C͎̝͚͕̱ͅH̭A͎R̟͉͓͈TER̭̩̥̫ ̖̻̹̱̭͙T͚HE͍̯͉̙͙̰ ͕̭͎̰͉͎B̼͇E̬̠̻͚͎S̩̩̳T ̹̫͇̮͈̙C̬̟͕̤̳͎O͎͔̮U̦RS̥͍E̮̰͍̳̱ ͈͕̣̞̼͎O͙̤̠̤VE̩̲̭͎͈R̻̤̟͈̦̘ ͍̥̫̼͍̲T͔̥̗̱̱͚̮H̝̤E͎̺̮S̠̪̻̟E ̯̝̗͚T̜͖̯͈̗RO̞͖̻̭͈̬̱U̠Ḅ͓͚̥L͍͓͈E̩͇͓D̦̜̣̙͕̹̞ W̦͎͕̗̤A͕̻͚̙̝T͇̲E͓̮̹̞̪ͅR̘̯̖S͎̯.̮̫̻̳͖"**

 

“I’ll be sure to check Google Maps to validate whichever course I see.”

 

The chuckles and screeching voices fade into the void, and your eyes fly open.

 

You sit up, wipe the sweat from your brow, and reach for your notebook.

 

\------------

 

Your name is Dave La- _Strider_ , and you hope that you are dreaming. There’s a dark shape across the roof, silhouetted by the setting sun. The light is blood red, the glint of his shades, his sword soaked in it. You raise your sword, and plant your feet, shoulder-width apart. And you wait.

 

The two of you stand there forever, as the sun sets and the crows circle above. Your sword is heavy, so heavy, but you don’t dare drop your point even an inch.

 

When your arms are shaking and you can feel a single drop of sweat crawling down your spine he vanishes. It happens as you blink, and you just have time to curse and whirl before the first hit lands, a line of pain across your back. You focus and flash to the other side of the roof, guard high and senses searching for any hint of the next strike.

 

You hear the whistle of a sword slicing through the air and dive, rolling and up of your feet again, see a flash out the corner of your eye and you flip forward.You land on your back, snap your sword up to block the blow to your face. You scramble back on your hands as the strike lands where your feet were, and then jump to your feet.

 

He’s moving slower now, stalking towards you like a hunter, the tip of his sword scraping the concrete behind him. You start to swing, running towards him, but he grabs you and uses your momentum against you, swinging you towards the a/c unit. The corner hits your stomach and you stagger, clawing at the hand still clutching your arm, but his sword flashes across your forearm. The line of red seems to draw itself into your skin, and you vaguely notice your breathing speeding up until you’re hyperventilating, needing to get more air but the air is hot and heavy and stinks of sweat and blood and you sink to the ground and feel your torso ripped apart again, feel your blood soaking into the cheap carpet, hear the door slam shut as you lie there and everything crashes over you, the pain and desperation and loneliness and bitterness and anger all swelling and merging until you just can’t do it anymore, and the only sound left is your worthless stupid sobs echoing out into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> short and angsty just my style  
> yoyo comments are my lifeblood just saying  
> also HOW TF DO YOU GET THAT AWESOME STATIC TEXT THING I'VE SEEN PEOPLE USING FOR HORRORTERRORS BECAUSE THATS FING AWESOME AND I WANT IT  
> EDIT: OH YEAH I GOT IT THANK YOU IT LOOKS TOATS AWESOME


End file.
